


i could never walk away

by zachas



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Angst with a Happy Ending, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Pining, Post-Trade, adam and taylor waffle around each other's feelings for 3.3k, soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-08
Packaged: 2019-09-12 16:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16876347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zachas/pseuds/zachas
Summary: When Adam wakes up for real, it’s noon and he’s alone. But if he presses his nose to the pillow, he can just barely make out the faint scent of Taylor’s cologne, still lingering on the sheets.Adam closes his eyes and breathes it in. Then he rolls off the bed and goes to throw up in the toilet.(Or: Taylor and Adam get married.)





	i could never walk away

**Author's Note:**

> me last year: what if taylor wins the hart and adam's also in vegas for some reason and they get married
> 
> i've had this idea knocking around in my head for a while, so i'm glad i finally got it all out. thanks to hannah, steph, and amy for the moral support! love you guys.
> 
> title from the song so sad, so sad by varsity

Adam wakes up in his hotel room in the middle of the night with Taylor’s head on his chest, and Taylor’s legs tangled up in his own, and for one groggy moment, he thinks he’s back in Windsor again.

\---

When Adam wakes up for real, it’s noon and he’s alone. But if he presses his nose to the pillow, he can just barely make out the faint scent of Taylor’s cologne, still lingering on the sheets.

Adam closes his eyes and breathes it in. Then he rolls off the bed and goes to throw up in the toilet.

When he finally finishes puking, he forces himself to take a shower to clean himself up. By the time he’s done, he feels a lot better, which is good, because his flight back home is in two and half hours, so he better get to packing up his stuff. Not that he brought much, but still.

It’s only then that he thinks to check his phone. Two texts flash up at him from the screen, both timestamped at 7:33 am.

_sorry i left, had to catch my flight_

_it was nice seeing you again though._

Adam stares at the messages for a minute. Then puts his phone down on the nightstand and gets to packing.

\---

(Adam had only gone to the NHL Awards because he’d gotten nominated for the King Clancy. But he should have known that being in Vegas and in Taylor Hall’s general vicinity could only be trouble.)

\---

The funny thing is, you’d think Taylor would be the one to do it. Taylor, the impulsive one. Taylor with that ever-present mischievous glint in his eye. Taylor at the bar, the bright neon lights of the Strip twinkling behind him like stars. 

\---

The flight back passes by in a blur of exhaustion.

He gets a cab to drive him home to Brantford from the airport, and it’s only when he gets his wallet out to pay that he finds it — a thick, neatly folded sheet of paper tucked carefully in the billfold. He pauses for a moment when he sees it, but skips over the paper in favor of counting out enough money to cover the fare.

Once he pays the cabbie, Adam walks into his house and drops his suitcase by the stairs. Then he sits down at his dining table, pulls out his wallet again, and grabs the paper hidden inside. He unfolds it and stares down at the fancy-looking script scrawled across the page.

After a long moment, Adam sets the paper down on the table and takes out phone.

 _Hey,_ he texts Taylor. _I think we got married._

Barely a second passes by before Adam’s phone is buzzing with an incoming call. He picks up.

 _“Please_ tell me you’re joking,” Taylor says. 

“I found a marriage certificate in my wallet,” Adam says. 

“Oh my god,” Taylor says. “Oh my god,what the hell do we do? Should I call my agent? Or my lawyer?”

“I don’t— I don’t know,” Adam says. “Just stop panicking, Hallsy, we’ll figure it out, okay?”

Taylor laughs into the phone. It sounds a little hysterical. “We’re married,” he says. “We’re _married._ Oh, fuck.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Adam says again. “I’ll figure it out. Okay? Just trust me.”

“Okay,” Taylor says. Adam hears him take a long, shuddering breath and let it out, slow. “Okay, Henny.”

\---

It started like this:

When Taylor came to New Jersey, with pieces of Edmonton still clinging to his skin, Adam never meant to fall in love with him again. It creeps up on him, slow and quiet, as if it had never left. Maybe it hadn’t.

A lot has changed about Taylor Hall since he was a cocky sixteen year old with a sharp grin and a bad haircut. But if there’s one thing that’s stayed the same, it’s this: he still plays beautiful fucking hockey. 

\---

“You know, you don’t have to babysit me whenever we go out with the team,” Taylor says once.

“I’m not babysitting you,” Adam argues. “It’s called enjoying my friend’s company.”

Taylor snorts. “You’re funny.”

Adam frowns. “Hallsy,” he says. 

“Look, all I’m saying is that you don’t have to sit around with me all night if you don’t want to,” Taylor says. He flaps a hand toward the rest of the younger Devils, who are all out at the bar, or on the dance floor. “Go dance and flirt with some girls or whatever. Have some fun.”

“I like being with you,” Adam says, and when Taylor laughs again, “I mean it, Taylor. Seriously.”

Taylor is quiet for a long time. He takes a sip of his beer. 

“Okay,” he says.

\---

Adam doesn’t babysit Taylor — he _doesn’t_ — but even so, whenever the rest of the team can’t find Taylor, they always ask Adam where he is first. He’s only a little surprised that he knows the answer, most of the time. Andy calls him the Taylor Hall wrangler, because Andy’s weird like that. 

Adam Henrique, the Taylor Hall wrangler. He keeps an eye out for him at all times. He sticks close to his side when they go out. He gently extricates him from the bartop when he’s clinging onto it for dear life, and Taylor lets him. Taylor always lets him. 

\---

Adam’s enjoying his off day at home when Taylor shows up outside his apartment door.

“Um,” Taylor says. 

“Oh, hey,” Adam says. “Wanna play Mario Kart?”

 

“Jordan broke up with me,” Taylor says while they’re racing on Rainbow Road. 

Adam drives Yoshi off the road.

“Oh,” he says, a few seconds too late. “I’m sorry.”

Taylor shrugs jerkily. “S’fine,” he says. His voice is a little too purposefully nonchalant for it to be real, but Adam lets it go.

Princess Peach zooms across the finish line in first place. Taylor sets his controller down in his lap and watches Adam race with the Mario for third.

“Long distance fucking sucks,” Taylor says.

Adam hums in agreement.

\---

They only kiss once. It happens when Taylor’s at Adam’s again, for some reason.

(“My apartment’s too empty,” Taylor finally confesses to him one night on another one of his uninvited visits. He’s got a beer from Adam’s fridge in his hand, because Adam started stocking up after the last time Taylor drank him out of all his Moulson.

“It’s fine, really,” Taylor continues. “But sometimes I don’t want to be stuck in my head, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Adam says. “You know that you’re always welcome to come over if you need to, right?”

Taylor smiles. “Thanks, Henny.”

“It wouldn’t kill you to send me a text beforehand, though,” Adam chides him gently.

Taylor flushes, and Adam watches as the pink creeps down his cheeks. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “Sorry.”)

Taylor pops in right around dinner, so Adam decides to make some food for both of them. Taylor follows him into the kitchen, ostensibly to help out, but all he does is sit on the counter and chirp Adam’s cooking skills. 

“You really wouldn’t want me to help out anyway,” Taylor says when Adam complains about it, and yeah, that’s fair. Taylor would live off of KD and takeout forever if he could. 

So, Adam cooks dinner and Taylor distracts him. They eat in the dining room, and Taylor kicks at Adam’s ankles under the table and smiles. 

In the end, it’s not a monumental moment. Kissing Taylor Hall is the easiest thing in the world.

 

Taylor’s the one who breaks away first. 

They’re standing in the kitchen, sandwiched between the sink and the center island. Taylor’s hands are resting on Adam’s back.

“Adam,” he says, drawing back a little. “I — I can’t —”

Adam freezes.

“I’m sorry,” Adam manages to get out.

Taylor gives his head a violent shake. “No, no, Henny, that’s not what I — shit, I’m fucking this up.” He runs a hand through his hair, like he always does when he’s thinking, and Adam waits.

“I like you a lot,” Taylor says. “Like, I don’t think you know how much I like you. But I — I’m kinda fucked up right now, Adam. Over Ebs, and fucking Edmonton, still, and I don’t think that would be fair to you."

“I understand,” Adam says.

Taylor bites his lip. “This isn’t no,” he says. “I need you to know that.”

Adam gives Taylor’s hips a gentle squeeze. “I do.”

“I wanna do right by you, Henny,” Taylor says a little helplessly. “You deserve that much, after dealing with my stupid ass all the time.”

“You’re not stupid, Taylor, don’t say that,” Adam says.

Taylor lifts one of his hands to Adam’s face and brushes his thumb carefully over Adam’s cheek. Adam closes his eyes.

“Just give me some time, Henny,” Taylor says softly. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Adam whispers.

\---

The truth is, Adam would have waited forever for him. 

\---

Adam’s busy reading up about annulments when the doorbell rings.

When he opens the door, he finds Taylor standing on his front step. Behind him, Adam spies a rental car parked in his driveway.

“Hi,” Taylor says. He looks nervous.

Adam blinks.

“You should have called me,” he says. “I would have picked you up.”

“Oh,” Taylor says. “Sorry.”

\---

“I was looking up how to annul a marriage in Ontario, but from the looks of it, it might be easier if we just tried for no-contest divorce,” Adam says.

Taylor stares at him blankly. “You were researching annulments?”

“Yes?” Adam says. 

“Oh,” Taylor says.

Adam blinks. “Taylor, I thought you — Isn’t that why you’re here? To talk about all of this?”

Taylor takes a sudden interest in the dinner table, scratching at the wood with his fingernail.

“I don’t really know why I’m here, Henny,” he admits to his hands. 

“Oh,” Adam says.

\---

They text, of course, when the season’s done, Taylor’s name lighting up Adam’s phone more often than not through the offseason, but it’s not the same. 

When Adam flies back to Jersey in September, Taylor’s waiting for him in the airport. 

“Hey,” Adam says. 

“Hey,” Taylor grins. He draws him into a tight hug that lingers a little longer than usual. “Missed you, Henny,” he says when he pulls back. 

Adam smiles. “Missed you too, Hallsy.”

\---

The Devils start off the season with a three game win streak, and Adam knows it’s early, they all know it’s early, but it’s hard not to feel the excitement churning in the air. The rookies are fantastic — Will’s collecting assist after assist, Jesper’s been a revelation, and Nico’s already found his place on the first line.

Taylor’d pretty much adopted Nico the moment Hynes had put them together in practice. Adam would say that he’s surprised, but he isn’t, really. Taylor’s always been good with the rookies. Especially the serious, quiet ones, for some reason.

Call him crazy, but Adam’s got a good feeling about this season. 

\---

It doesn’t take more than a few days into Taylor’s stay for them fall into an easy routine. 

Adam wakes up early every morning to go on a run. Sometimes Taylor joins him. When he doesn’t, Adam usually finds him in the kitchen when he comes back home, squinty and sleepy-eyed, trying to make up a pot of coffee. 

Adam will usually nod hello, then push past him so he can get to his room and take a quick shower to rinse off the sweat. When he reemerges, hair still dripping with water, he goes to pour himself a cup of coffee and shoos Taylor out of the kitchen so he can make breakfast. 

In the afternoons, they usually work out. Adam’s got his personal trainer, who he goes to see a few times a week. Taylor makes do with the home gym in Adam’s basement.

Every few days, Adam takes Taylor out to show him around Brantford. Usually, he’ll bring him to a good restaurant, or show him one of his favorite cafes, or take him to a nice park. Taylor will usually smile at him, or chirp his taste in coffee, or lie down next to him on the grass and close his eyes under the warm summer sun.

It’s just so easy to forget, sometimes. 

\---

Adam gets traded on a Thursday.

\---

The thing about long distance is, it’s hard enough when you’re maintaining an established romantic relationship, or even if you’re just staying in contact with a good friend, but when it’s your best friend who you’ve been in love with since you were seventeen years old, who almost definitely reciprocates your feelings but didn’t act on them because he needed time to recover from his last breakup and you were okay with it because you would have waited forever for him but the problem is you don’t _have_ forever, you were such an idiot to think you ever did, and now you have no idea what it is you have with him, whether he even wants to try anymore now that you’re living on the other side of the country, and —

Well. You get the point. 

\---

“Do you remember it?” Taylor asks suddenly. He’s sitting in the passenger seat of Adam’s car, staring out at the gentle orangey-pink sunset as it trails across the pale sky. Warm wind breezes through the rolled-down window, ruffling his hair.

“Remember what?” Adam asks, absently tapping his fingers against the steering wheel.

“The night we got married.”

Adam’s fingers still. 

“No, not really,” Adam says. “Why?”

He can feel Taylor’s eyes on him, but Adam makes sure to keep his gaze focused on the road.

“You know, you were the one who proposed,” Taylor says.

Adam’s head snaps over to look at him. “What?”

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Taylor says. “Hey, keep your eyes on the road.”

“No, I don’t,” Adam says, turning his head back to stare out the windshield.

“Most of it’s a blur for me, too,” Taylor says. “But later on, when you texted me that we got married, I just — I remembered. I was hanging out at the bar with you after the awards ceremony, just getting really fucking drunk and talking about — talking about random shit. You went quiet after a while, so I was sitting there, drinking my beer, and then out of nowhere, you said, ‘Marry me.’ And I was gonna ask you if you were joking, but you looked so dead fucking serious, I couldn’t — I just —”

“You said yes,” Adam says quietly.

“Of course I said yes, Henny,” Taylor says.

\---

“The thing I don’t get,” Taylor says later, when they’re sitting together on the living room couch, trying to separate Taylor’s laundry from Adam’s, “is why _you_ would do it.”

“Do what?” Adam asks. “Propose to you?”

“Yeah,” Taylor says. “I mean, I can see me doing it. I’m the stupid, reckless one here, right? I’m the one who gets blackout drunk and thinks that getting married in Vegas is a good idea.”

“You’re not stupid, Taylor, don’t say that,” Adam says.

Taylor ignores him. “But that’s not you, Henny. You’re supposed to be the sensible one. You always think about the consequences. So I just don’t get why you would do it, you know? It doesn’t make sense.” He frowns down at the red shirt in his lap. “Hey, is this Spits shirt yours or mine?”

Adam looks at it. “I have no idea,” he says.

\---

(Adam doesn’t remember much about that night in Vegas, except this:

He’s tucked away in a little table in the corner of the bar when he hears someone walk in. He turns his head to look, and god, Adam feels like such a cliche, like a fucking Chainsmokers’ song, because there’s Taylor, breathtakingly beautiful at the hotel bar, and Adam’s heart aches.

Against his better instincts, he gets up from his seat and walks over.

“Hey, Taylor,” Adam says. “Congrats on the Hart. You had a great season.”

“Thanks, Adam,” Taylor says. He’s smiling, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “How have you been, anyway? How’s Anaheim?”

Adam considers lying, but somehow, he can’t muster up the energy. “Not great, to be honest,” he says.

“Oh,” Taylor says. “Sucks.”

 

“I would have waited forever for you, you know,” Adam says to the dark bartop, once he’s drunk enough.

Taylor take a slow swig from his beer.

“I know,” he says quietly, and somehow, that’s what hurts the most.)

\---

When Adam comes back from his run the next morning, he finds Taylor in the kitchen, making scrambled eggs.

“Morning,” Taylor says.

Adam stops in his tracks. “Are you _cooking?”_

“Fuck off, I can cook,” Taylor laughs. “You don’t need to look so surprised.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you touch a stove in my life,” Adam says.

“Well, you have now,” Taylor says. He smiles and gives Adam a light shove. “Go take a shower already, you fucking reek.”

Adam laughs and does as he’s told.

\---

“You know, I was thinking,” Adam says as he dries the silverware. “About what you said yesterday.”

“Hm?” Taylor says absently as he washes the dishes, scrubbing the ketchup off one of the plates.

“I still don’t remember proposing to you,” Adam says. “But I think about that night, I do remember seeing you at podium, when you won the Hart, and then at the bar, later, and I just — I missed you so fucking much, Taylor.”

Taylor’s hands are still on the plate that he’s holding. He carefully sets it down in the sink.

“You’re my best friend,” Adam says. He twists the dishrag in his hands. “And after I got traded, and we stopped talking… it hurt a lot, you know? I thought I was losing you.”

“Henny,” Taylor says, quiet.

Adam ignores him. “I still want to be your friend, Taylor,” he says. “And it doesn’t — it doesn’t have to be more than that, if you don’t want. I just don’t want to lose you again.”

Taylor hums thoughtfully. Then he peels off his rubber gloves, turns to Adam, and kisses him.

 

Adam’s head is spinning by the time they pull apart, his mind whirling with all the things he’s always wanted to say but never has, but somehow, what comes out of his mouth first is —

“Why do we always kiss in my kitchen?” he blurts out.

Taylor stares at him for a second. Then he bursts into laughter, loud and bright, and it doesn’t take long until Adam’s laughing too, laughing so hard his stomach hurts, and he has to grab hold of the kitchen counter to keep himself upright.

Once they can both breathe again, Taylor grins and waggles his eyebrows at Adam. “Well,” he says. “We can always change that.”

Which just sets them off again.

\---

“You know, we still have to get divorced at some point,” Adam says later.

Taylor groans dramatically. “Shut up,” he says. “We can talk about boring legal things tomorrow.”

They’re lying in Adam’s bed, Taylor’s head pillowed against Adam’s chest as he traces slow circles with his hands on Adam’s stomach, and Adam tries to take in the moment, to commit it all to memory just in case they don’t —

“Hey,” Adam says suddenly. “I’m gonna come back. To Jersey. You know that, right?”

Taylor blinks. “Yeah, of course,” he says.

Adam bites his lip. “I won’t be a free agent for another year, and I know that’s kind of a long time, but —”

“Hey, no, it’s okay,” Taylor cuts in. He catches hold of one of Adam’s hands in his own and gives it a gentle squeeze. “You said you would have waited forever for me, didn’t you? I think I can handle a year.”

Adam stares down at him for a second.

“I love you,” he says.

Taylor smiles at that, bright and wide. “I love you too, Henny.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://www.traviszajac.tumblr.com) \+ [twit](http://www.twitter.com/kylepaimieri)


End file.
